A Cat-Sitting Gig in Rome That Changed Everything

By Amelie, a traveler from Netherlands

I signed up for a house sit in Rome thinking, Free stay? Cute cat? Easy. What I didn’t realize was that this trip would completely change my life.

When I arrived, the apartment was straight out of a movie — tall windows, a little rooftop terrace, and a tiny espresso machine that made me feel like a true Italian. My new roommate? A fluffy Persian cat named Maestro who had the attitude of a Roman emperor but the habits of a retired grandpa. My only job? Keep him fed, let him sleep, and occasionally acknowledge his royal presence.

Most days, Maestro and I had a routine: coffee on the terrace in the morning, me wandering through the streets of Trastevere in the afternoon, and both of us watching the sunset from the balcony in the evening. It was the easiest gig of my life. But on my third day, something unexpected happened.

I was sitting at a little café near Piazza Navona when a guy sat down at the table next to me. He noticed Maestro’s fur still clinging to my sweater and, laughing, asked if I had a cat. We started talking. He was a photographer from Spain, traveling through Italy, and just like me, he had stumbled into pet-sitting as a way to see the world.

• "Wait," he suddenly said, eyes narrowing. "Maestro? Persian cat? Rooftop terrace?" - turns out, he had pet-sat for the exact same cat.

For two weeks last summer, he had been Maestro’s loyal servant, refilling his food bowl and receiving the same judgmental stares I now knew all too well. We spent the next hour swapping war stories — how Maestro once ignored him for an entire day after he dared to sit in "his" chair, how he learned that the cat only accepts scratches behind the left ear, and how, on his very last night, Maestro had curled up next to him for the first time, as if giving his final seal of approval.

We laughed. A lot. And at some point, between sips of espresso and stories of our shared feline overlord, I realized something: this was exactly why I loved traveling. Not just for the places, but for the unexpected connections — the way a cat in Rome could somehow bring two strangers together from opposite sides of the world.

The rest of my time in Rome flew by. We wandered through hidden alleyways, took photos at sunrise, and, yes, made sure Maestro was still ruling his rooftop kingdom as expected.

On my last day, as I packed my bags, Maestro jumped onto my suitcase, sat down, and stared at me as if to say, And where do you think you’re going?

• "Don’t worry," I told him. "You’ll have another servant soon."

Because if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that in some little café, somewhere in the world, I’m going to run into another traveler who’s been trained by the great Maestro. And when I do, we’ll have stories to share.